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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093321">Fresh Air</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfox38/pseuds/demonfox38'>demonfox38</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lupin III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Assassination Plot(s), Collateral Damage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fairly Standard Jigen Angst Involving His Terrible Ex-Partners and a Dead Woman, Gen, Goemon's There But Not Doing Much, It's a Little Darker than Standard Modern Lupin Episodes but Not Quite Koike Dark, Mild Language, Some Minor Part 2 and TV Special Discussions but Viewing Not Needed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:55:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonfox38/pseuds/demonfox38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A hit gone horribly wrong comes back to haunt Jigen. Lupin still has his back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fresh Air</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jigen had been having a good morning. Really.</p><p>It wasn't one of those picture-perfect days. Not something someone with an equal number of braincells and children would put on their social media page, captioned with bland gratitude in white, cursive letters. It was just a morning. His morning, with his partners, spent lounging and watching TV. No running. No shooting. No alcohol. Well, maybe a few drops of amaretto in his coffee, but who would count that? It was just him, the greatest gunman on the planet, long and lean and lounging beside two similarly stretched savants.</p><p>He didn't care what time it was. Hell, what day it was. All it was was his.</p><p>And then the stupid TV had to ruin that.</p><p>Timpani and trumpets were enough to knock one of his partners out of meditation. On the far edge of the couch, Goemon bristled, the edges of his kimono sleeves ruffling like feathers. Such fluttering startled flighty Lupin. With a shudder and a squawk, his coffee went flying from his fingertips. The cup didn't so much shatter but roll, sending dark-brown stains spreading like rivers through a three-hundred-year-old Persian rug. Jigen snarled. What the hell was so important that the world had to yank all three men from their peace?</p><p>"Five people are dead and forty-five injured after an attack at Café de Palma."</p><p>Everyone locked eyes with the television set. Lupin leaned in, as if he could make the grainy, gruesome images any sharper with his glare. That, or he was falling into the crevasse that was the news anchor's cleavage. Goemon shrunk away, Zantetsuken rattling with similar distaste at the smoldering mess where the café once stood. Jigen's lips flattened. Even criminals hated seeing carnage like this.</p><p>Oh, the reporter was stating…things. Obvious things. Sharper eyes saw through the simplicity of her statements. That was a café Jigen knew. Hell, Lupin and he had split an order of carbonara there the other day. He knew where the tables were supposed to sit, how many chairs circled them, the paintings that decorated the walls. Everything was dropped. Artwork. Furniture. Purses. Phones. Shoes. Guns. Blood.</p><p>Goemon squeezed his eyes shut. "Horrible."</p><p>"Yeah." Lupin spoke without a single nod, his eyelids and vertebrae locked.</p><p>The reporter plowed on, heedless of what made thieves shudder. "According to the ongoing investigation, police currently believe that café patron Michael Lastra was the target of violence that unfolded here just a few minutes ago."</p><p>Hidden eyebrows twisted beneath the brim of a lowered hat. Lastra. Lastra. Couldn't be him, right? Maybe that'd be a unique name back home, but—</p><p>"Lastra had been engaged in a verbal conflict with as-of-yet unidentified individuals when they allegedly opened fire." Damn TV reporter had no respect for Jigen's concentration. "Unofficial reports state that Lastra also drew a weapon and returned fire before succumbing to his injuries. It has not been established which of the casualties reported were caused by Lastra or his attackers."</p><p>Jigen could have crumpled his hat into a ball.</p><p>Nope. That was it. The Michael Lastra he'd been thinking of. Had to be. There weren't that many idiots out there in the world with that name and the same wanton disrespect for the lives of others. The end of Jigen's cigarette twisted between his teeth. The man never did learn a damn thing. He sure as hell wasn't getting another lesson.</p><p>What was that small fry doing so far outside of his pond, anyway?</p><p>The reporter didn't care. Well, perhaps she did. Just not about people like Lastra. And frankly, she was better off that way. "Authorities currently believe that these attacks are related to similar incidents that occurred in the Chicago and Manhattan areas earlier this week. It is assumed that there is a link between all three victims."</p><p>Jigen nodded, if just to himself. Yep. Someone will find it. The cops. The ICPO. Zenigata. Somebody.</p><p>The question was, who was going to find him?</p><p>Oh, that wouldn't be a problem. Jigen had been on a hit list a time or two. There were just these two little problems curled up on the couch next to him. A single eyeball broke the shade of Jigen's hat. Lupin and Goemon were…well. Capable. Arrogant. Able to dish out enough damage to take down entire countries. As safe and secure in their skills as Jigen was.</p><p>But, if he ever came back to find their safehouses as tossed as that café, nothing to be found of them but puddles of their blood—</p><p>He pulled his cigarette from his mouth, snuffing it into the glass ashtray on the table at his side. His legs coiled back, crossing for just a second before he stood. Five steps got him to French doors. Five more, and he was out on a balcony, staring into serenity. Lupin really could pick a good place to hang out. Oceanside views, trees that stretched for miles, all nestled against tall cliffs. It was easy to lose himself out here. Easy to let silver waves slide over his thoughts.</p><p>If only all water could be so pristine. But, maybe even eyes as good as his couldn't see its pollution from this far away. Bottles bobbing. Newspapers washed from one country to another. Black bags dropped like trash over the side of some silent ship. Jigen grimaced. His memories were more than happy to litter his unspoiled view. Men tossing what used to be men overboard. Goemon stumbling over a bridge's railing, falling, hitting the surface with a single splat. Lupin tumbling further, diving deeper, sending scarlet all throughout the sea. A lighthouse flashing, flickering over trash and gore alike, its glare cold and indifferent to the suffering soup it served.</p><p>"Jigen?"</p><p>Oh, damn it.</p><p>The gunman huffed. What did he expect? Rainbows followed storms, and Lupin followed his sulks. "Yeah?"</p><p>"You forgot your lighter."</p><p>Jigen smiled. Lupin was always the best when it came to playing dumb. "Didn't need a smoke."</p><p>Bright shoulders shrugged. Three clicks later, another burst of color went up. Jigen didn't turn his head, didn't acknowledge Lupin's ploy. If he wanted to smoke out here, he could. It was a smoker's deck, after all. Frankly, the whole damn safehouse was a smoking zone. But, they could pretend this was just about smoking for a few minutes more.</p><p>Why? Why did Lupin always want to talk these things out? Jigen leaned onto the balcony's supports, his head dropping beneath his hunched shoulders. Goemon at least had the sense to shut up. He would cross his legs, fold his hands together, and wait until Jigen came crawling to him like a feral cat looking for food. Lupin was too loud, too eager to please. He went running after anything he wanted with treats, leashes, tools of any trade. Jigen was grumpy, so clearly, Jigen needed another smoke. Was that it? Was he just something Lupin could shake a tin of food at and get him to come to his side?</p><p>When did Jigen get to be so domestic?</p><p>Dark humor puffed from his nostrils. That was Lupin's doing. He was all smiles, hands, flowery praise, and rich spoils. Oh, he had a mind like a dumpster behind a sex shop. He redistributed wealth not through intricate policy but his own sticky fingers. And yet, being with him was cleansing. Purifying. At least with Lupin, he didn't have to kill. Not unless it was to save someone else.</p><p>With Lupin, he was a hero. A goddamn knight in shining armor, riding in on a golden steed.</p><p>And what in the hell would he be if Lupin ate a bullet meant for him?</p><p>Lupin's lips curled. "So, when are you going to tell me what happened with you and that guy on TV?"</p><p>Jigen just grunted.</p><p>"Ah, c'mon." Lupin hooked into him, as if he could pick the words from Jigen's teeth. "You know I'll find out, one way or another."</p><p>Yeah. Obviously. If not through direct interference, then through a single search online. A tight jaw clicked loose, releasing a sigh. Alright. Fine. He knew plenty about the stains in Lupin's dirty laundry. He could slingshot his own briefs into that pile.</p><p>"East Island. Years ago," Jigen began. "Back when I was cutting my teeth."</p><p>For once, Lupin kept his mouth shut.</p><p>Jigen straightened his back, pulling his hat over his eyes once more. It was easier to talk about this if he didn't have to see Lupin. "You…know the kind of people I used to work for."</p><p>"Assholes," Lupin chirped.</p><p>Leave it to Lupin to have an accurate appraisal. "They wanted to see if we were ready for prime time. Four of us. Michael, me, and these other two guys. John and Juan. Well, we had to call John Johnny when we were working. Keep our names a little separate. He hated that though." Jigen stopped himself. Where was this rambling getting him? "Guess it doesn't matter much anymore, though, does it?"</p><p>All Lupin gave was an off-tune hum.</p><p>"So, we're sent after this guy Fusco. Not the biggest fish, but rich enough to have his own yacht. Place in the Hamptons. A wife, a daughter. A good life." Jigen kept his head forward, as if he could still see that place through the abyss in his hat. "But, you know how it goes. Some people get spoiled. Don't appreciate what they've got. And Fusco, he's got another problem, outside of being a rich, flashy asshole."</p><p>"Being?"</p><p>"The same one you've got."</p><p>There was a click as Lupin flicked the tip of Jigen's hat up with his finger. "And what would that be?"</p><p>Jigen smiled. "Thinking you're in love with every damn woman on the planet."</p><p>"And I am! Maybe plus or minus a couple of guys, too." With that, Lupin pushed his hat back down. "But, go on."</p><p>Oh, yeah. It was real easy, dragging this miserable piece of history out of his trashy past. "Let's just say Fusco's wife didn't appreciate such a point of view."</p><p>Lupin shrugged, as shameless as his technicolor jacket.</p><p>"So, that gives us a good opportunity to go after him. Wait for her to take the daughter, head up to her mother's place, get out of our way. Johnny calls us up, tells us her car's gone, and we go in. It's…" The rest of his sentence rolled like broken enamel across his tongue. "About as clean of a kill as we can get."</p><p>Jigen waited for a moment. Surely, Lupin had something smartass to say. The cool, gray morning stretched on, uninterrupted by the blast of color at his side. Jigen readjusted his hat, looking over his shoulder and back into the mess he called home. These sorts of conversations were easier to have with Goemon. The ronin knew what a mess their former occupations were. But, no. He had other matters to deal with, like respinning his sacral chakra. Jigen's past was his own bed of coals to walk over. All he could hope was that Lupin would throw his jacket over them.</p><p>"We made it quick." Jigen's grumble was as distant as thunder. "Second floor window, into the study. Guard A. Guard B. Two in the chest, one in the head. Fusco…well, he tried. But, nobody's as good with a gun as I am."</p><p>Cigarette smoke bobbed with Lupin's nodding.</p><p>"So, the dust settles. We think it's all clear, right?" Jigen shook his head. "And then, I heard—"</p><p>"—a scream," Lupin finished with him.</p><p>The brim of Jigen's hat dipped. His elbows locked, his arms drawing tighter together. Why did he have to keep talking? Lupin was a smart guy. Surely, he could put the rest together. Ah, but no. Lupin was also his friend. His friend that paid him in nonsequential bills and gemstones, but a friend all the same. Maybe, even family. An actual, real member of his family. Not what had berated and abandoned him in New York. Not what had sent him out to kill.</p><p>"People see what they want to see." The truth left a bitter trail in Jigen's mouth. "We hear Fusco's got a daughter, and we think, probably some brat in pigtails and skirts. We know Fusco womanizes, and there's a woman at the door of his study. Johnny says his wife's gone, so it can't be her. I <em>know</em> what I'm seeing. Michael <em>knows</em> what he's seeing. I <em>don't</em> shoot. He <em>does</em>."</p><p>Lupin's head dropped.</p><p>Jigen's followed his. "Of course, he starts making excuses afterwards. 'She had a gun! She's all dressed up! No way someone that hot could've been Fusco's kid!' But, no. It's Fusco's daughter. Ready to go out for the night, armed with nothing but a clutch."</p><p>"Ugh."</p><p>Yeah. Ugh. Why did Jigen need to say more than that? He reached across the deck, snatching the cigarette from Lupin's lips. Smoke prickled across numbed bronchioli. He wanted the pain of his first cigarette back, to breathe and gag and sneeze out smoke. It was so much easier to bear than this conversation.</p><p>"What's done is done," Jigen hissed. "We clean up. Take out our mess. Burn the place to the ground. The cops can't find anything, or maybe they're too lazy to care. Just another act of gang-on-gang violence. Life goes on. Just…not for everyone."</p><p>Paper and metal fluttered as Lupin drew another cigarette. "Horrible."</p><p>Jigen nodded. "Even the friggen' Bolsheviks were cleaner than us."</p><p>What was there to hope? That another urban legend would rise up, that Fusco's daughter would be a second Anastasia? Hell, what was even the truth with the original one? He thought they'd met her granddaughter, but others had found pieces of her remains scattered in a shallow grave. And what if there was a miracle? What if Fusco's daughter survived that shot, clawed her way out of a trash bag, surfaced in the sea? Wouldn't she want his ass so thoroughly bullet-riddled and bagged, too?</p><p>Silence settled like mist and smoke between Jigen and Lupin. Its story came in the puffs of their breath, the mumbling of a TV muted by glass, tobacco and cologne sinking into wood and skin. For a moment, the peace of their morning came back. It was gaunt, insecure. As boney as their elbows.</p><p>"I think I might have thought about stealing from that family, way before I knew you." Lupin's confession came freely, shamelessly. "They had that taxidermized albino impala head, right? No idea where a scumbag like Fusco got it. Gold horns, eyes like rubies. Just beautiful."</p><p>Jigen shook his head. "It was just lacquer and marble."</p><p>"Damn it!" Lupin deflated like an unwound balloon animal. "I should have known."</p><p>Lupin always was a sucker for his fantasy. Jigen, just as quick to drag him back into reality. "Michael put two rounds into it during the hit. "</p><p>"Moron."</p><p>"We really shouldn't have given that clown an Uzi."</p><p>Another nod swirled smoke in the air. Two cigarettes locked in the same angle, dipping into silence. Speaking wasn't Jigen's strong point. If he didn't have to talk, he didn't want to. Insecurity burned like ash in the back of his throat. The skin under his jacket sleeves itched. He felt sooty, coated in debris, absolutely filthy. Sure, people did worse things in the world. Getting a young lady killed put him right in the company of slasher movie monsters.</p><p>And yet, some people rooted for the men with hatchets and knives.</p><p>Lupin perked up. "Think someone's coming after you?"</p><p>Jigen's face twisted. What was he, a mind reader? "Probably." He flipped his cigarette to the opposite side of his mouth, rocking as he settled into place once more. "Wouldn't be a complete revenge without killing me, anyway."</p><p>"Then, we shouldn't be standing out here, should we?"</p><p>"Probably not." But, if anyone was going to catch a flash of a muzzle or a sniper's sight, it would be someone who had used them before.</p><p>Long, hairy fingers grabbed him by his shoulder. "Look, man. If you need a couple of days—"</p><p>Jigen brushed them off. "I don't need a vacation, Lupin."</p><p>The monkey of a man twisted beneath the brim of his hat, smiling up at shadowed eyes. "Because every day with me is one already?"</p><p>Yeah. Sure. As close to a dream as reality allowed. Jigen's face cracked, a smile leaking through his teeth. A psychiatrist would have a field day with him. An ex-assassin turned thief, playing around with a chimpanzee, a Barbie doll, and a samurai. A perfect picture of mental health and maturity. Who would believe his stories? His life was aberrant, fantastic.</p><p>And yet, Lupin did.</p><p>But, Lupin also loved a good lie.</p><p>"If I did leave…" Jigen let his thoughts swirl. Bits and pieces rose, unmixed in heavy batter. "I could find out who was on their trail. See if they're after me. Clean this up."</p><p>"It's not a bad idea," Lupin agreed. "Not that I want you to go."</p><p>"Yeah. Well." Jigen stuck his second cigarette back in Lupin's mouth. "I don't want to come back to the hideout and find a Jackson Pollock made of your brain matter on the walls."</p><p>"Okay, one? Ouch." Lupin pulled out the shorter of the two cigarettes, letting it fly out into the damp forest below their balcony. He let the second stick direct their attention inside their safehouse. "Two, Goemon would totally take care of any intruders. Right, Goemon?"</p><p>One hand released its meditative form, raised a thumb, and then folded back into its partner.</p><p>Oh, yes. Sure. Goemon could fight. Jigen had tested him enough to know that. He was young, strong, calm in the face of danger. One of a handful of people he trusted with his own welfare, never-the-less Lupin's life. But, Goemon had his flaws. He was gullible, easy to embarrass, easier still to tie up like a yo-yo from the rafters. And how easy was it to yank Lupin along by those same strings? Not just by Fujiko's sly hands, either.</p><p>If anyone treated Goemon or Lupin as terribly as Fujiko had been…</p><p>Ah, but not Lupin. Lupin was a gentleman, fair to the unfair. He was all too quick to lavish Jigen with affection. "Whatever you need, Jigen. Ammo. Shelter. Time. We'll get it for you."</p><p>Of course, they would. "Why?"</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>Jigen frowned. Wasn't it obvious? "This is my problem."</p><p>"It's my problem when it steals you from me."</p><p>A smooth foot clunked down. It twisted as awkward as the knot in Jigen's stomach. Damn it all. Of course, Lupin would say such things. When his fingers couldn't get what he wanted, his lips would. His affection burned like a shot. Alcohol. Metal. Jigen couldn't decide which. All he knew was that such kindness made him feel tipsy. Secure and insecure in the same breath.</p><p>He stilled his own, his hat shielding his troubled soul. "You can always get another bodyguard."</p><p>"If I wanted a bodyguard, I'd hire one." Lupin left that hat alone. His fingers settled instead along the edge of Jigen's jacket, rubbing circles around petrified bones. "What I want is a Daisuke Jigen, and those are very hard to come by." His voice cracked, unable to stay serious forever. "I mean, there's at least twelve other Goemons I could pick up—"</p><p>"And two other Lupins I could help," their remote ronin interrupted.</p><p>"Shut up and get back to meditating!" Lupin sputtered again, stalling as badly as their Fiat on a summery Sunday afternoon. "Long story short—I need you as much as I need my hands."</p><p>Geez. With words like that, he might as well just pop a ring and a question. Jigen rolled his hat to the side, his right eye glassy from shining mists and screens. "You can live without your hands, Lupin."</p><p>"Yeah," he agreed, "and it would really suck."</p><p>Well, Jigen couldn't argue against that.</p><p>Whatever air was left in him rattled in his lungs. He wanted Lupin to be an idiot. It would make everything else in Jigen's life make sense. Damned that Lupin had to be right about a few things. Perhaps he looked at Fujiko like Don Quixote saw his Dulcinea, but the woman had legitimate charms. At least, she was quick with a smile and a pistol. Goemon was a chest of contradictions. Simple, yet flashy. Reserved, but gleaming—especially, with Zantetsuken in his hands. And how did Jigen measure up to any of that? He had no dynasty, no pedigree, nothing shimmering or antique in his appraisal.</p><p>He was just a scruffy street rat. The rotten little creature living at the bottom of a trash can, eating and sleeping in garbage.</p><p>"Look," Lupin murmured. "We all have things we regret."</p><p>Jigen rolled his eyes. "Your regrets don't run longer than Santa's Naughty List."</p><p>"I wish they did," his boss giggled. "But, really, Jigen. Whatever you need, I want to give it to you. If it's time, it's time. If it's guns, then guns! Whatever it takes so I can keep you."</p><p>He might as well just have clapped a ring on him right there.</p><p>Fine. Okay. Fortune favored Lupin. As mad as it was, he was the safest bet. Maybe Jigen was being paranoid. Maybe someone was watching him right now, lining up a shot without as much as a scope. Whatever would happen, he'd have to get ready for it. Do some research. Tool up their weapons and vehicles. He was a better man for Lupin's interference. Whatever was in his shadow would find that out the hard way.</p><p>Jigen tipped his head back. A cog fell into the right spot in his brain. "If anyone out of that mess would want us all dead, it's Fusco's ex-wife."</p><p>"Duh. Nobody messes with Mama Bear." With that, Lupin swooped Jigen inside once more. "What do you think the odds are on her being on the Dark Web?"</p><p>"Her? About as much as him." Jigen flopped next to Goemon, all too glad to have a seat once more. "She'd have to know someone underground, though. One doesn't just divorce themselves out of that."</p><p>"Well, we can still start online. It's the easiest place to go." Lupin preened on his feet, all too happy to strut around and formulate his next plan. "I'll go download some footage from the other attacks, and you can tell me if you see anybody you recognize."</p><p>Goemon nodded in agreement. "We should close the curtains as well."</p><p>"Getting cold?"</p><p>All the ronin had to do was flick out his sword.</p><p>Jigen caught it on the top of Zantetsuken's face. No scopes. No eyes. Nothing biological or immediate as a threat. Just a glass lens staring at them from deep within the trees. He scowled, slamming his hat and his feet down. Goddamn drones. Technology really was ruining nature.</p><p>Rattling doors were a precursor to a barrage of blasts knocking the threat out of the forest.</p><p>If Lupin had any fears, they didn't show on his face. He just strolled out, looking down to where the robot spy lay splattered in a dozen pieces. "Huh! Looks like someone's doing research on us, too!"</p><p>Jigen's scowl smoothed into a smirk. "Bunch of wise guys."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Howdy. </p><p>So, it's been a while since I've posted. Life's kicking my ass, for one thing. Work is overwhelmingly busy, family is needy, and frankly, it's hard to plan anything when people keep cancelling holidays or rescheduling meetings on me. However, I was able to scrape together enough time to angst it out in text.</p><p>Lately, I've become nervous about writing. My element is being dark. Like, not like the compressed void within a black hole dark, but I do my best when I'm putting characters through rough shit. I worry about hurting readers when I do that, or that I become reliant on beating up the same target over and over again. To be honest, with as heavy as everything has been lately, I don't know if people want a story like this. But, I felt like I had to make something. I feel so atrophied from months of stress and work that I needed to slough some sludge off.</p><p>Here's hoping this hit some sort of sweet spot for you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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